


First Impressions

by thilia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-21
Updated: 2010-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-28 23:45:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thilia/pseuds/thilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Properly-raised young girl meets dangerous adult man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Written for deatheaterfest 2009/2010.

Fearful eyes scanned the crowd, and she wasn't even aware of the tears that slid down her face as she wondered how she'd ended up here. She wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to be with the others, wherever they were. Safe and hidden, and far away from what many called the Final Battle. She hoped they were right. She was sick of the War and being scared to death all of the time. She didn't want to worry about her friends and family anymore; she just wanted it all to be over.

Only a few months ago, she'd considered herself a supporter of the Dark Lord's cause. She had never met him, of course, and didn't wish to but the idea of living in a Mudblood-free Wizarding world where Purebloods reigned and didn't have to hide from highly inferior beings had appealed to her. At the time it had seemed like an ideal solution but now she didn't care who won. She just wanted things to go back to normal.

That was the only reason why she'd suggested to offer Harry Potter up to the Dark Lord. She was ashamed of herself now but also felt the need to justify her words, even to herself. She had never cared about Potter or his friends but she didn't want him to die either, unless it was necessary. If she could save herself and the people close to her, she didn't care who had to suffer or even die for it.

They had been in the Great Hall, getting ready to leave and be far away from the battle, slaughter and torture. Pansy had never been brave, which was why she had no explanation for why she was here on the Battlefield right now instead of somewhere safe. But when they had been about to leave, all she had been able to think was 'Draco', and had sneaked out of the castle to look for her best friend. Now she regretted it.

There was blood and chaos everywhere; curses flying, masked Death Eaters chasing Pansy's teachers and classmates (those who had been brave enough to stay and fight) and members of the Order of the Phoenix. She didn't know who had the upper hand at that point, who was winning, and she didn't care. Now that she was here, she just wanted to be somewhere else; _anywhere_ else.

She ducked as a jet of bright-green light flew her way, and only much later did she realise how close she'd come to dying. She whimpered pathetically but there was no time to feel embarrassed; she was still in danger and a different curse could hit her any second.

A large hand gripped her shoulder and Pansy whirled around, shrieking when she came face to face with a tall, masked man. She felt her knees go weak as her eyes widened in panic, and when he grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder, her heart constricted in fear. She struggled, kicking and punching him as much as she could but he was stronger, his muscular arms wrapped around her as he took her away.

She was paralysed and too scared to even consider where he might be taking her or what he was going to do to her. She had heard of pretty girls being kept as the Death Eaters' personal slaves or toys and she had never thought that she might share the same fate.

They were away from the crowd now and heading towards Hogsmeade, Pansy realised. Her heart continued to pound in her chest as she clung to the Death Eater who was carrying her, too terrified to even realise what she was doing. When they reached the village, he stopped suddenly and set her down, and Pansy stumbled and fell to the floor as she tried to put some distance between herself and the Death Eater.

She was panting, staring up at him in panic as he hovered over her; her mind picturing countless scenarios as she waited for the Death Eater to either reach for his wand to kill her, or Apparate them to his house to lock her up in the basement and have his way with her – or leave her there to rot. Nothing could have prepared her for the man's words.

"Run," he hissed; his voice was low and slightly raspy, and vaguely familiar.

Pansy blinked in surprise; none of her scenarios had involved her getting out of this alive and unharmed. He grabbed her arm and pulled her up, calloused fingers digging into her flesh. " _Run_ ," he said again, more insistently this time; but how could she run when he was still holding on to her?

Her breath came in short, heavy pants as she stared up at the man in fear, still not struggling to get her arm back. If he was going to harm her, he would've done it already, right? There was no reason to panic but she couldn't make herself breathe calmly either.

A gasp escaped her when she was yanked forward and the man's lips pressed against her own, his tongue parting her lips to rub along hers as his strong arms wrapped around her possessively. His scruffy chin grazed her skin and Pansy went rigid in his arms as her brain processed the fact that some dirty, old Death Eater was _kissing_ her. She struggled for a moment, pressing her hands against his hard chest but only seconds later, she let out an involuntary moan and melted into the embrace, her eyes closing as she allowed the kiss.

They broke apart a short while later and the man's mask was back in place before Pansy could open her eyes to see his face. Dark eyes stared down at her through the slits of the silver mask, and then he repeated that word a third time before turning around and heading back towards the castle. Pansy swallowed hard and panted, watching the dark, cloaked figure disappear.

Then she turned and ran.

~*~*~

It had taken over two years for Pansy to feel more or less safe in her skin, and she still wasn't completely over the effects that the War had inflicted on her. She still had nightmares sometimes and she doubted that they would ever really stop. She had witnessed so many horrible things on the day of what had really _been_ the Final Battle, and afterwards. But she also knew that she had come out of it all relatively well compared to others who weren't so lucky.

Draco was deeply scarred; physically as well as psychologically. He had been a Death Eater, and even though he and his family hadn't ended up in Azkaban like most of them, he was still suffering; even years after the Dark Lord had been defeated.

Sometimes he told her about the days when the Dark Lord had been residing at Malfoy Manor, and a cold shiver ran down Pansy's spine whenever she tried to put herself in Draco's position. It must've been horrible for him to have that man (if you could even call him a man) living in his house and know that there was no way to get him out of it. Draco didn't talk about it a lot but Pansy listened whenever he needed to share something. Not only the past tortured him; the present did as well. People knew the Malfoys had been Death Eaters and treated them as such. At one point, Draco had been afraid to even leave the house; tired of being spat on and insulted wherever he went. Pansy comforted him and reminded him that eventually, the insults would stop and they would be fine. She hoped she was right.

Pansy had never shared her own experience of the Final Battle with anyone. She had considered telling Draco a few times but had always changed her mind. She thought back to it almost every single day, but what she remembered wasn’t the tortured looks and cruel actions of the Death Eaters. The only thing she wanted to remember was that kiss.

Almost every night she lay awake in her bed, trying to picture the man's face and remembering what his lips had felt like against hers. As much as she tried to move on and forget about him (because her mysterious Death Eater was most likely dead or locked up in Azkaban for all eternity), she couldn't seem to let go. Most people considered Harry Potter their Saviour, but for Pansy that man, that _Death Eater_ , was her own personal Saviour.

She had occasionally toyed with the idea of asking Draco about his fellow Death Eaters and making him describe them to her. But she cherished her memory of that man and wanted to keep it all to herself. Besides, it wasn't like she could describe him. All she knew was that he'd been tall and strong with dark eyes and stubble on his chin. She didn't even know his hair colour as he'd been wearing his cloak, so she really didn't have much to go on.

Sometimes she found herself imagining what it would be like to meet him again, because part of her refused to believe that he was dead or in prison. Maybe he had escaped such a fate, like the Malfoys had, and would rescue her on his white horse and...

Pansy snorted whenever she thought of that fantasy. She knew it was completely pathetic but part of her held on to the hope that one day, they would meet again. She could still hope, right?

~*~*~

Pansy had always hated Ministry functions but being the properly raised daughter of a well-respected, wealthy and powerful member of Wizarding society, she had been forced to attend them starting at an early age. The events were stiff and boring with nothing for her to do except smile politely and pretend to be interested in endless discussions about politics and Ministry matters.

She had to admit, though, that those parties had become a little more interesting since the end of the War. She was very surprised to receive an invitation to a Ministry masquerade ball, even more so when one considered the fact that masks still reminded most people of the Death Eaters and brought back painful memories of the terror the Dark Lord had inflicted on Great Britain less than three years ago.

But Pansy had never missed an opportunity to dress up and realised that she was actually looking forward to the event, if only because it promised to be more interesting than sitting at home, doing nothing. Maybe she would even get the chance to dance; something she hadn't been able to do since the Yule Ball during the Triwizard Tournament in her fourth year.

She chose a beautiful, sleek, white dress with black lace decoration for the occasion and pinned up her hair artistically. Her mask covered the upper half of her face and was black and white to match her dress. Maybe she should've chosen a different escort though, because Blaise Zabini proved to be completely useless.

He stayed with her for an hour before disappearing with Draco and Theodore to smoke cigars and drink Firewhiskey in a back room, not even asking her for a dance before he left her with the Greengrass sisters and Millicent Bulstrode. Her Pureblood upbringing which valued politeness and avoiding making a scene in public prevented her from expressing her rage. However, she had to admit that it was nice to catch up with the girls.

Another hour later, she made her way to the bar to get a refill of her drink when a tall, masked man approached her. Pansy's breath caught in her throat as the image of her mysterious Death Eater appeared before her eyes, and she wondered if it could really be him. Was it really possible that he was still alive, and not in Azkaban?

"Miss Parkinson," the man said quietly, and the voice gave him away; it really was _him_. Pansy barely managed to hide her excitement. He was smirking, and she blinked as she realised that he knew her name. "Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?" he asked then, holding out a hand.

Pansy's mouth opened but no sound came out, so she was reduced to nodding dumbly and setting her half-full glass down on the counter before accepting his arm and letting him lead her to the dance floor.

He slid an arm around her and took her hand and she did the same, her heart speeding up as she immediately remembered how safe she'd felt in his arms that day. She leaned into him without even noticing it and rested her chin on his shoulder as they began to move.

She closed her eyes briefly and forced herself to breathe calmly and make her heart slow down, but it was easier said than done with the man's warm breath on her neck and his hard body pressed against hers. She swallowed hard and finally found her voice. "Who are you?" she managed, and cleared her throat when her voice sounded slightly shaky.

She could feel more than see the man's smirk when he answered. "You'd like to know that, huh?" He chuckled and Pansy frowned.

"Yes, actually," she said, and was satisfied because this time her voice sounded much more sure and steady, and also a little annoyed. "I like to know the names of the men who kiss me."

Another chuckle and the man's arms tightened around her. "Ah. I thought you might feel that way. You're going to have to work harder than that to reveal my identity, however." A large hand stroked down Pansy's back, and her brows furrowed more. The man's confidence and smugness was very irritating and obnoxious, and even though Pansy refused to admit it to herself, sexy.

"Really," she said dryly, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she tried not to scowl too obviously. "And what exactly will I have to do to find out your name?"

The man let out another laugh and Pansy unconsciously dug her fingernails into his broad shoulders in frustration. His scruffy chin brushed over the sensitive skin of her neck and she shivered as his breath ghosted over her bare shoulder. "I don't know," he murmured. "Use your imagination."

Pansy sighed. She thought for a moment and drew back to meet the man's eyes. He looked and sounded a little familiar but she couldn't place him. She stared into his eyes for a long moment, not allowing her own gaze to drift down to his infuriatingly inviting lips. He smirked again and Pansy narrowed her eyes. "I could just walk away," she told him. "I don't care who you are. I could just leave you here and it would make no difference to me if I find out who you are or not."

The man's smirk widened and she could imagine that he was raising an eyebrow under his silver mask. "I think we both know that isn't true."

Before Pansy could snap her angry retort, the man tightened his arms around her and pulled her up into a hard, demanding kiss. Pansy struggled, then had no choice but to allow it, considering she was on a public dance floor and she didn't want to make a scene. She refused to answer the kiss at first, but soon realised that it was futile. As he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, she found herself doing the same, relaxing in his arms and savouring the moment.

She'd dreamed about that first kiss so many times and for so long that she had given up hope of ever experiencing that much passion again. Yet here she was, kissing that same man again and the kiss was even better than she remembered.

When he pulled back, she let out a breathless gasp and felt a warm flutter in her stomach when he brushed his lips over the shell of her ear. "The name's Walden Macnair," he murmured, and her knees almost gave out when he let go of her. He grinned and gave a brief bow, then turned around and left Pansy before she even had a chance to reply or ask him to stay.

Her chest rose and fell as she breathed heavily, standing on the dance floor, abandoned.

Walden Macnair.

Her eyes widened when she realised that she _knew_ him. She swallowed hard and took a look around the hall, then made her way to the bathroom where she leaned against the wall and took a deep breath.

She'd been seven years old when she'd first met Walden Macnair. He had visited her father, and she had listened in on their conversation, not understanding a word. Now she knew that Macnair had been trying to convince her father to join the Dark Lord. At the time, she had disliked the man intensely; he had seemed arrogant and dirty and old and dangerous which was enough reason for seven year old Pansy to hate him with a passion.

Then she had seen him again in her third year at Hogwarts when he'd come to the school to execute that rabid hippogriff that had injured Draco during Care of Magical Creatures. She and Draco had been watching the executioner make his way down to Hagrid's hut to kill the mad creature.

Their third meeting had been during the Final Battle, and now... Now he was here.

She sucked in a sharp breath as her thoughts were interrupted when the door opened suddenly and Macnair came in, closing and locking the door behind him and leaning against it. Pansy's eyes widened and she stared at him, her heart racing in her chest.

"What do you want?" she asked, hating that her voice was shaky again. "Leave me alone. This is the Ladies' room; you're not supposed to be here and my friends will come looking for me."

That insolent smirk was back on Macnair's face as he raised an eyebrow. "They have no reason to suspect you're in danger, so why would they do that?"

Pansy hated to admit that the man was right and took a brief glance around to look for another way to escape. Macnair pushed his mask up and took a few steps forward, giving Pansy the opportunity to run to the door. Before she could turn the key to unlock it, however, Macnair had flipped her around and pinned her to the door with his body, hovering over her as she tried to glare at him.

He was close, so close, and she could feel his warm breath on her face, his body pressed against hers. "Mr. Macnair," she breathed, forcing herself to keep her composure even as she looked up to meet his dark eyes. "Let me go right now. You are clearly drunk and don't know what you're doing."

He chuckled softly, one of his hands reaching for her hip and sliding up to rest on her waist. "Maybe a little," he murmured, his voice dropping to a soft, silky but still raspy tone. "But I know exactly what I'm doing."

His hand wandered up her body, calloused fingers brushing her bare back as he took another step closer, successfully trapping Pansy between his hard body and the heavy wooden door. Pansy swallowed around the lump in her throat, and her eyes closed involuntarily as she tried to keep her legs from shaking. She hated that he had this effect on her and could turn her knees into jelly with just being in her presence. "Please," she whispered, suddenly feeling extremely small and helpless. What was worse was the fact that she actually enjoyed the feeling. Pansy, who loved to be in control, was surrendering to this... _man_ ; this man she wasn't even entirely sure she liked very much.

She felt rough fingers stroke her cheek and grip her chin, tilting her face up, and Pansy let it happen. In mere moments, she'd lost all of her will to fight, and didn't even mind. Her breath came in short little gasps as her heart picked up its pace, and she was unable to suppress a sigh of relief when Macnair's lips pressed against hers. The kiss was hard and demanding like the two previous ones they'd shared, and Pansy felt herself answering it eagerly, her fingers digging into Macnair's muscular arms as she held on to him for dear life. His tongue slid into her mouth, brushing her bottom lip only briefly before demanding entrance. She closed her eyes and tried to regain some control over the kiss but she was powerless under his touches.

One large hand still on her back, he reached for both of her wrists with his other hand, pinning Pansy's arms above her head and making her feel even more helpless and at his mercy. She moaned into the kiss as his free hand travelled up her body to cup one of her breasts; his grip tight and possessive, yet gentle at the same time. She found herself leaning into the touch unconsciously, pressing her body harder into his; her breath hitching when she was made aware of his erection against her thigh.

Macnair broke the kiss to mutter a spell which tied Pansy's hands together above her head and freed his previously occupied hand to touch Pansy more fully. She stifled a moan when he reached for her dress, hitching it up to reveal her thighs, and as his rough hands gripped them and forced her legs apart, she obeyed wordlessly.

She felt his fingers come dangerously close to that part of her body that no one except herself had touched before, and a sudden panic gripped her. What if someone saw them? What if Macnair wanted sex? Pansy had never done anything like this before and she suddenly realised that she was not in a position to fight which made it possible for Macnair to do whatever he wanted to her. She barely even knew the guy; she couldn't have sex with him!

She swallowed hard and Macnair must have noticed her hesitation because he slowed down, stroking her stomach lightly while his other hand continued to make its way under her dress, hooking two fingers under her knickers and pulling them down. Pansy's eyes fluttered closed and she felt those two fingers gently brushing over the soft patch of hair between her legs.

"I've been thinking about this for over two years," he murmured into her ear as his lips brushed her naked shoulder. She shivered and tilted her head to the side to give him better access while she also spread her legs more as his hand slid between her legs to cup her crotch. She bit her lip and pressed against his warm hand without even meaning to. "I've been thinking about _you_ for so long," he continued, the stubble on his chin scratching her neck as he continued to kiss it. "Your pretty lips... Those perfect breasts..." His free hand sneaked up to pull her dress down and reveal her breasts. He stopped kissing her neck briefly to look at them. "And your pussy..." He met her eyes and Pansy shivered, hating that he used such vulgar language but finding it incredibly sexy at the same time, especially when his middle finger started rubbing against her clitoris, making her hips buck and a moan escape her.

He cupped one of her now bare breasts, pushing it up and bending his head to kiss it, sucking her hard nipple into his mouth and biting it carefully. Pansy had never felt like this before. When she'd thought his kisses were great, they were nothing compared to this. "Macnair," she breathed, wanting, _needing_ more, while at the same time, she wasn't sure she was ready for more.

There was a sudden knock on the door and Pansy jumped, then groaned in frustration when she heard Daphne's voice. "Pansy? Are you in there?"

She looked into Macnair's eyes, imploring him to shut up and stop for a moment while she tried to make her friend leave. "Yes! Yes, I'm fine, Daphne, just... give me a moment."

"I'll wait," Daphne's voice came from the other side of the door. "Just hurry up; I need to use the loo."

Macnair rolled his eyes and reluctantly let go of her, pulling her knickers back up and letting her dress fall down. He released her arms and she rubbed them before pulling her dress back up to cover her breasts. She squeaked in surprise when she was pulled back into Macnair's arms and kissed again, but it was over much too soon.

He stepped back and slid his mask back down, giving her a small smirk. "I'll see you soon, Miss Parkinson," he said quietly, and with a soft 'pop', he Disapparated.

Pansy let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding and banged her head against the door, almost forgetting that Daphne was still waiting for her to open the door. She took a quick glance into the mirror to check her appearance but apart from being a little flushed and some strands of her hair hanging down, she looked okay.

She opened the door to let Daphne in, then put her mask back onto her face and went back to the party, looking around for Macnair, but he was gone. She couldn't help being a little disappointed.

~*~*~

Pansy didn't know what she'd expected when Macnair said 'I'll see you soon' but she certainly didn't think she would be sitting around for weeks without hearing a word from him. She was getting increasingly frustrated and hated that she'd let a man get to her so much that he was affecting her life.

She sat at home for about two weeks, waiting, but then decided that it was more probable to run into him if she was in public places like Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley. When she didn't encounter him there, she became even more frustrated and went back home.

Five weeks after the masquerade ball, she still hadn't heard from him and decided to try and forget about him. He was clearly a total bastard who'd never cared for her in the first place.

She had almost given up hope when one day, Macnair was at her door. She was completely unprepared for it and had been about to head out to meet Daphne and Millicent when she ran straight into him, immediately feeling his strong arms wrap around her to steady her.

She looked up at him, stunned, and rather than give him a simple 'hello', she snapped at him. "You call five weeks 'soon'? I've been waiting here for you and you just..."

She trailed off and managed to take a deep breath before he silenced her with a kiss. She closed her eyes and let him for a moment before she pressed her fists against his chest and pushed him away. He wasn't going to get out of it that easily.

Macnair sighed, and it was obvious that he had not expected this anger. "I'm sorry," he said. "Something came up and... well, I'm here now, aren't I?"

Pansy eyed him suspiciously. "How did you find out my address?" she asked him sceptically and folded her arms over her chest.

Macnair raised a brow. "I know some people," he said simply, then reached for her arms and pushed her into her flat, closing the door behind her. A moment later, Pansy found herself pressed against the wall like that day at the Ministry. "And if I really want something," he continued, brushing his lips over her neck and immediately making Pansy's knees weak, "I'll do anything to get it."

He pulled back and gave her that annoying smirk of his but Pansy already felt her resolve crumble. She glared at him for another moment, biting his finger when he brushed it over her bottom lip. She grinned then and finally allowed herself to wrap her arms around him and stare into those dark, dangerous eyes. Macnair grinned back. "Now, where were we?" he murmured before leaning in and kissing her hard, pressing his tongue between her lips and deepening the kiss.

Pansy yelped in surprise when he picked her up but wrapped arms and legs around him without even thinking about it as he carried her into the bedroom; he seemed to have no problems finding it even though he'd never been here before. He set her down and grabbed her breasts, pressing them together and pressing his face between them, nuzzling. Pansy's breath hitched when he let go of them and slid his hands onto her arse instead, squeezing it possessively. She was glad he was still holding onto her because once again, her knees threatened to give out. She held onto his broad shoulders, then started fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, sliding her hands down his hairy chest after she'd pushed the shirt off his shoulders. She bent down to kiss a nipple, grazing her teeth over it and feeling her stomach flutter at the low groan that left his lips.

She let out a surprised squeak when he picked her up again and threw her onto the bed. Her skirt hitched up, and her chest was rising and falling quickly as she watched him undo the fastenings of his trousers and slide them down. He wore no underwear.

She bit her lip when she watched him step out of the trousers around his ankles, unable to tear her eyes away from the thick, hard cock she was presented with. Her heart sped up, both in excitement and nervousness because she had still never done this before. But all hesitation was gone; she knew she wanted it, hadn't been able to think about anything else since that masquerade ball.

She pulled her shirt off, unclasped her bra and slid it off as he knelt on the bed, then she laid back against the pillows. He looked down at her hungrily and the intensity in his eyes made her shiver; she was sure no one had ever wanted her this much. At school, she'd been a bit of a tease; she'd made boys want her but had never actually gone all the way. She'd let them fumble her breasts but no one had ever got to touch anything else. No one except Macnair.

Macnair reached for one of her legs, picking it up and kissing it; starting at the ankle and stopping at her inner thigh. Pansy's breath was coming in short pants, aware that her knickers were wet and that he could see it. Her mouth opened and she gasped when she felt his lips press against that wetness on her panties.

"Please," she whispered, hating that she was begging but wanting, _needing_ more. Macnair tore her underwear off and pushed her skirt up around her stomach as he pressed his face against her, tongue swiping over her clit and making Pansy's hips buck up into the touch. "Oh god," she breathed, her fingers twisting the bed sheets beneath her as he pleasured her with his tongue. Nothing had ever felt this good and she wondered how she could've lived without this all these years.

She bit her lip as she felt one large finger press against her opening, sliding into her and making her clench around it. She wrapped her hands around her breasts, rubbing her nipples as he slid another finger inside her, moving them back and forth for a moment before withdrawing them altogether.

She whimpered in disappointment, then started up into his eyes as he leaned over her, the wet tip of his cock pressing against her entrance.

"Say it," he murmured, his voice rough and demanding and the hunger in his eyes even more visible than before. "Say that you want me."

A breath left her lips and she stared up at him, biting her bottom lip as she tried not to obey even as she knew that it was pointless; it was obvious that she wanted him. Still, she managed to stay silent for another moment before the way he was rubbing his cock all over her pussy without giving her what she needed became too much and the words broke out of her. "I want you," she gasped. "God, I want you. Please..."

The smug smirk on Macnair's lips made her glare but then he was pushing past the tight ring of muscle, filling her wholly until he was buried balls deep inside of her. It hurt briefly as she felt her virginity being taken but then it felt more overwhelming than anything she'd experienced before.

She gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh as he gave her a moment to adjust to his length, but then he pulled out and thrust into her again, repeating the movement again and again. Soon, Pansy was moaning, clinging to him as she pushed back against him, pulling him in deeper and deeper with every thrust.

He kissed her, muffling her moans with his lips as his hands touched every inch of skin he could reach. Every time he pushed in, Pansy felt a jolt of pleasure shoot up her spine and fill her whole body with a warm, tingling feeling.

She almost whined in disappointment when he drew back, but then his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her up onto his lap, giving her control over him. She wrapped a hand around his slick cock and slid down on it again, moving up and down on top of him, their eyes locked.

It didn't take long before her body needed more, demanded that release, and he seemed to recognise the look in her eyes because he slid his hand down to rub a finger against her clit even as she continued to ride him.

Macnair's breath became more shallow and she could feel that he was close, too, and just as she felt her own orgasm wash over her, Macnair's hips thrust up into her one more time and they reached their climax at almost the exact same time. Pansy's seemed to go on for minutes before she finally collapsed against Macnair's body which was slick with sweat.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him as they came down from their orgasm together. He held her for long moments before he lowered her back down onto the mattress and slid out of her. He lay down next to her, an arm wrapped around her stomach possessively as she felt his breath against her neck.

She lay there, unable to move or speak, grimacing a little when she felt his come trickle out of her.

When the silence threatened to become uncomfortable, she turned her head to find him watching her, and managed a small, almost timid smile. Neither of them broke the silence; they just stared at each other until Macnair leaned in to kiss her with surprising gentleness. Pansy turned in his arms and returned the kiss just as softly, stroking his hair.

She didn't know what would happen next or if they had a future together. Macnair had made her wait for five long weeks (if you didn't count the almost three years since the Final Battle), so he was clearly not the most reliable guy. He was or had been a Death Eater and Pansy found that she was both attracted to and worried about his dangerousness. But he was her Saviour and whatever might happen, she had a feeling that it would be all right. Her father and friends would not approve of their relationship which honestly made him even more interesting in her eyes. And even if he'd end up breaking her heart, she somehow knew that it would be all right.


End file.
